


Building Foundations

by jaekayelle



Series: It's Complicated [6]
Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 01:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/999483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaekayelle/pseuds/jaekayelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rafa and Mirka get to know one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Building Foundations

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work of fiction.

The season was a strange one. Roger went out in the third round in Madrid to Kei Nishikori. Rome was a better result, as he got as far as the final only to lose 6-1, 6-3 to Rafa. It was always hard playing a friend. Losing to one was worse. Losing to his boyfriend was not any easier. 

Rafa arrived at their hotel suite later that night. Mirka answered the knock on the door and let him in with stilted manners. It was the first time they had seen each other face to face since Indian Wells. The tension between them was so thick it felt suffocating. Roger wasn't sure it was all coming from Mirka, either. He looked from one to the other and decided he needed to do something. 

“Come on in, Raf. Mirka and I were just going to have a glass of wine. Do you want some?”

Dark eyes flickering from Roger to Mirka and back Rafa hesitated only seconds before saying, “Yes, thank you.”

They sat down, Rafa and Mirka on either end of the couch and Roger in the arm chair. It felt awkward but there was no way to fix it without playing musical chairs. Roger poured the wine and handed over their glasses.

“Congratulations on your win today, Rafa,” he said. He meant it too. He was already nearly over the loss and looking forward to Roland Garros. There was some lingering sadness, but he'd made the final and playing Rafa on clay was always a challenge. Stan hadn't done any better in Madrid. So far this season only Djokovic had beaten Rafa in a final. Well, and Zeballos but that just added to the weirdness of this year. 

“Gracias. Thank you.” 

“I thought you'd be out celebrating with your friends,” Mirka said. Was that a tinge of frost in her voice? Roger stared at her. She was never one to hold a grudge, but she was showing a fair job of doing just that tonight. They had discussed his relationship with Rafa once or twice since he came back from the south of France, and she had seemed fairly all right with it all. Now, however, the old resentment was back. What had changed?

Oh, right. The final. Roger relaxed a little. If she was just pissed about Rafa beating him yet again, she would get over it. He had his 24 hour rule, she had hers. It was only a few hours since the match. 

“I would rather be with you and Roger.”

Startled, Mirka shot him a look, searching his face for the truth. It felt ages, but she finally nodded. 

“You want to spend time with me?”

“Yes.” Rafa set his glass down. “You are important to Roger. He is important to me. That make you...matter to me. You are,” he stopped, took a moment and started again. “You make Roger happy. I need him to be happy, too. I do my best, my part. I would like to be friends with you.”

“Or,” Mirka said after a pause, “as close as we can get?”

Rafa smiled. “Si.”

Roger added encouragingly, “I hope you both try to be friends.” 

Mirka raised her glass. “To friendship.”

They toasted that sentiment.

#

It was almost three a.m. They were still up, having finished off three bottles of wine. Roger tipped the last few drops into his own glass. Make that four bottles. He reached for the last one on the coffee table and opened it. 

Mirka was sprawled on the couch, her feet resting next to Rafa's thighs. Roger was on the floor, back against the couch. Mirka dangled one hand, resting it lightly against his neck. And Rafa, well, he was passed out. Flopped in a boneless heap against the arm of the couch, half upright. 

“Lightweight,” Mirka said under her breath. 

“So you said a few times already.” Roger yawned hugely. Then he took another drink straight from the bottle. So much for being a classy gentleman. He had put that aside hours ago. 

“What are we going to do with him?”

“We could strip him naked, dump him in our bed and let him wake up tomorrow thinking he had sex with both of us,” Roger suggested mildly.

“Oh, that's good!” Mirka exclaimed and stole the bottle out of his hands. Roger tipped his head back to watch her mimic what he had just done with it. She swallowed and added, “We should do that.”

“Are you sure you don't just want to see him naked?”

“We-ell, he is pretty.” She grinned at him. 

Neither of them was drunk, just incredibly relaxed. They weren't sure about Rafa. He'd matched them drink for drink, and then slid quietly into sleep. 

While they watched, he smacked his lips and then settled back down. 

Roger met Mirka's amused gaze. They burst out laughing. Then, still giggling softly they shared the wine, easy and comfortable with each other as it should be. If they could still laugh together their marriage was sound. 

After a bit Roger stretched and got to his feet, stretched again and turned to help his wife off the couch. She stumbled against him and his arms went around her. He looked at her seriously, and then bent his head to capture her lips in a sweet kiss. 

“Bed?” he asked. 

“Sleep,” she agreed. “Too tired for anything more.” Then she rubbed his chest and patted it. “Morning sex is always good, though.”

“It is morning,” he pointed out. 

“Late morning sex,” she countered. 

“Fine,” he sighed heavily, putting on an act. He was tired too, but willing to make an effort if it meant getting lucky. 

Mirka went to the bedroom and returned with a blanket, which she draped carefully over Rafa's sleeping form. Then, thinking better of it, she said, “Help me with him.”

They removed his shoes and arranged his legs on the cushions, stretching him out. She placed a pillow under his head and straightened up, admiring her handiwork. 

“I wish I had a marker and could draw something on his lovely face.” She grinned at Roger, wound an arm through his and lead him to their bedroom. He grabbed her ass and squeezed. She swatted him playfully and they went about their nightly rituals of getting ready for sleep. 

Rafa rolled over and dreamed on.

#

When they emerged from the bedroom, ravenous and full of smiles, they found Rafa still on the couch but awake now. He sat up and ran his hands through his hair, mussing it up endearingly. It was flat on one side and standing on end on the other. 

Mirka wore a bathrobe, while Roger had on a t shirt and shorts, after their shower. Roger thought Rafa looked a bit hungover. His eyebrows had lined up which was not normal for him. 

“You okay?” Roger asked him.

“Sure.”

“Are you lying?”

Rafa sent him a look that was half irritated and half hopeful.

“I'll get you something for your headache,” Mirka told him. 

Gratitude flooded his face. 

Roger sat next to him. “Is it a bad one?”

Working his mouth as if he had forgotten how to form words Rafa finally settled on a tiny nod.

Roger patted his knee. “You can stay here and sleep some more. Get rid of your headache.”

“You and Mirka gonna have more sex?”

Surprised, Roger asked, “You heard us?”

“Woke me up.”

“Uh, sorry.” Roger watched him closely, trying to figure out if Rafa was angry or jealous. “You know I love her.”

Rafa straightened so they could face one another. “Si! Not problem for me, except you're loud!”

“Oh!”

“I glad when you went for shower, so didn't have to listen.” 

Face flaming from embarrassment Roger laughed, “Sorry. We got carried away. Sort of forgot you were out here.”

Mirka returned with a bottle of painkillers and a large glass of water. She handed Rafa the bottle first and waited while he shook out two pills, and then she passed him the water. 

“Drink it all. You're probably dehydrated.”

“Gracias,” he said quietly and downed the pills and then the water. “Thank you very much.”.

During their little party the night before they'd done some talking, mostly skirting the important subjects. Roger wanted to bring them up now, but then thought better of it. Rafa and Mirka seemed to be getting along now. Why rock the boat? Not everything needed to be analyzed and possibly create resentment again. 

Rafa had held the blanket across his lap until now. He pushed it aside and stood up. “I use your...?” He gestured toward the bathroom. 

“Of course,” Roger told him. “Do you want to shower here?”

Rafa shook his head. “I return to my room and change later – after.” He walked toward the main bedroom and they heard him shut the door to the bathroom. 

“After what?” Mirka wanted to know.

“After...we talk some more?”

“What is left to talk about? We both love you and I'm willing to share. I just wish we could get him to promise to stop beating you.”

“Hey! Some of that is up to me, you know.” 

Mirka squeezed his hand. “I know, darling. You are the better player. You just have trouble proving it sometimes.” Then she grinned at him.

Roger grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off the floor, making her squeal. Rafa returned just then and rolled his eyes. 

“Again?”

Setting Mirka back on her feet, unaccountably Roger felt a blush heat his face. “We won't have sex in front of you.”

“You said something about changing your clothes after. After what?” Mirka asked.

“Breakfast.”

“Oh.” 

Roger laughed at the look on Mirka's face, and then again at Rafa's expression.

“Feeling well enough to eat?”

“Si!”

“Should we order room service?”

“Maybe I go change now after all and meet you out.”

“Downstairs? The hotel restaurant is pretty good.”

“Si.” 

“One hour?”

They agreed on the time and Rafa left to get cleaned up and changed. 

“How long will this affair go on?”

Startled, Roger could only stare at Mirka. 

She added, “Or is this the real thing?”  
“I love him,” Roger said simply. “Probably as much as I love you.”

“Yeah,” she said softly, “I thought so.”

“So we're good?”

“Always.”

Roger kissed the top of her head, and then turned away to go get dressed. 

“Rogi?” 

“Hmm?”

“The next time you have sex with Rafa can I watch?”

# end


End file.
